My BPD story. Could people tell me their stories with BPD?

M

M_Therd

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#1
Hello. I hope you are doing OK today.

I've been recently diagnosed with BPD and I'm wondering what other people's experiences with this are like?

I'll tell you how I came to be diagnosed with this. I've never told this to anyone in it's entirety, not even the hospitals and therapy I've visited. I feel like I really want to express everything that I can put into words somehow, but I can't do it face to face.

When I was a child I was abused by a friend of the family over a couple of years. After this I sort of became very withdrawn, very anxious and I kind of lost the ability to make close friendships with people, and all my relationships in my teenage years were extremely unhealthy and volatile, I would be clinging to people one moment, then I would suddenly stop talking to them just to see if they 'really' cared about me and if they would talk to me out of their own volition. Not unsurprisingly, I lost all my friends by the time I finished High School. During college I spoke to no one, and it wasn't until University that I started trying to socialize again. Self-harm became a problem for me at this point.

A couple of years ago, I was in a pub and a woman approached me where I was sitting and started trying to flirt with me. I don't think she was being serious, I think she had been dared to do it, or she was tying to make fun of me. For a couple of months previous to this, I had been becoming more withdrawn, drinking more and self-harming more, and for some reason her approaching me made me feel suddenly extremely anxious and self-hating. I remembered things from years ago, and I ended up having some sort of breakdown, or panic attack, in the pub which lasted for more than an hour. I barely knew where I was, or what was happening around me. I was escorted home once I had stopped shaking and panicking.
Once I was at my house, I began to hear people that I knew calling my name, and I suddenly had this realization in great clarity that I was the reason for other people's suffering, and I had been put on the earth to sacrifice myself and hurt myself to save others.

2 weeks after this experience, I tried to commit suicide but was forcibly stopped by a passerby, held onto the ground and arrested by police, who took me to the psychiatric ward. I told them I had been self-harming for a while, and had been feeling anxious. They prescribed Sertraline and Olanzapine and they let me go after a night on the condition that I had daily visits from a crisis team. For 2 months, I was seen in my house daily by the Mental Health team. I became incredibly unstable at this time, and the self-harm became a serious problem. I would get into weird moods and tell people online that I loved them and beg them not to leave me, or become incredibly irritated with people for nothing.

After a couple of months been seen by the team, I took a massive overdose of which caused me to text absolute gibberish to people and then I passed out. The police had to break down my front door to get to me and take me to hospital. Once I had come round, I was Sectioned under the Mental Health Act and transferred to a Mental Health Hospital, where I spent 2 months. It was a very good hospital, I was very lucky there. They tried to treat me with medication and sent me off.

Shortening it a little, I got out and tried to go back to my life. I tried for a while, but then took another overdose. I was sent back to Hospital, this time voluntarily. I'm so glad I went voluntarily, as the second hospital was horrible. The second hospital diagnosed me with BPD, but decided not to tell me for some reason. The medication I was on was taken away with no explanation and I was left in my room with no treatment, medication or therapy at all. I was just expected to recover with no intervention, or maybe they didn't expect me to get better. I flew into a rage at the doctors, and discharged myself. For a number of months I didn't seek any help from professionals. I discharged myself from daily visits and ignored my Health Care Co-ordinator. After a while I then stared on an anti-depressant, which didn't seem to do anything.

I was convinced at this point that I shouldn't get help, that I was in fact here to help others, and the only way I could do it was to sacrifice myself for others.
I was Sectioned again late last year after self-harming, first in a toilet, then attempting to do so again in public. I remember ranting a little at people about healing other people, and how I needed to do it to help everyone, but my memory isn't great of this incident.

The third hospital actually told me about the BPD diagnosis that the previous hospital had given. They talked me through it, and explained how it's normally treated with talking therapy. How it results in chaotic relationships, mood swings and stress-induced psychosis.
I'm out of hospital again now, and I've taken time off work now. I've been waiting for therapy, but it hasn't happened yet. I still live like I'm not going to be alive much longer. For some reason I'm still hurting myself. I should have sorted out new accommodation for when my current one expires, but I haven't done it.

What are other peoples experiences with BPD? I'd like to hear some success stories.
Am I beyond help? Am I just a bad, defective person? BPD sometimes seems to me to just say that rather than being a mental illness, that it's a fundamental flaw with my 'soul' for other words, and I can never be rid of it.
I've never told all this to anyone. My family don't understand what is going on with me because I don't share anything with them. It feels a little like removing a weight to type it all hear though.

Thank you. Sorry for the length. I hope you have a nice day. Please let me know your experiences, how you were diagnosed etc.
 
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Kerome

Kerome

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#2
It’s really awful what has happened to you... some people say that a lot of mental health conditions are post-traumatic stress disorder in disguise and it could well be true in your case. Childhood abuse can leave deep and lasting traces.

I’m sorry I don’t have my own story of bpd to share, I only suffer psychosis nos. I hope you manage to keep a grip on these ideals of healing and the self-harm, it doesn’t ultimately sound healthy.
 
mami5

mami5

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#3
I'm sorry for all you've been through, I hope you do manage to get help and a better life for yourself :hug:

I have BPD, not very well at the moment and therefore can't go into any details. Feel very worthless, empty, rejected, a bad person who deserves to be punished, self harm, desperate to feel loved/wanted/needed with no desire to carry on living.
 
laula

laula

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#4
I was abused as a young child in a religious organisation as well as like you friends of the family sexually abused by three men who were friends of my mother who I now believe was letting them do that to me and because it started when I was 18 months old when first abused in the religious organisation then psychological abuse from my birth mother and an alcoholic step dad where I lived until I was 16 years old and ran away from home.
Then I was diagnosed with depression at 16 and treated for it as well as counselling then I was alright for a while carried on with my life until I reached 24 and started to have extreme pain attacks in my right hip which went on for over a year then in 2005 it went bang and I became disabled during this time I had a breakdown thinking about how useless I was and that I was a burden ir cursed then in 2006 after going forward and l backward to appointments they then realised that I was suffering from BPD and depression the psychologists helped me then it was all explained to me that the abuse had caused a short circuit in my brain which caused my mental illness.
Then I was put on quetiapine and citalopram after a bad reaction to previous anti depressants and I levelled out and other than medication changes since 2012 I have been in as much control as I had ever had and with my journals I have kept on that path!:dance:
 
J

Jamielj3636

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#5
My bpd stems from lack of attention as a child. I did not feel loved as a kid so I started withdrawing myself from others very early. I was also bullied through high school in 12th grade and that really made me stay away from people and feeling frightened when people looked at me or spoke to me. I went into the army in 2001 because I felt I could get away from my previous life and just start over new and meet new friends

I did meet friends and I did become more social and confident but those old feelings of neglect and sadness would come and go and I would withdraw myself from my buddies or I would stay in my barracks for the entire weekend when I was off work.

I didn’t find out I was bpd until about 6 months ago after being in an 7 year relationship. I thought everyone else was the problem until I realized the issues stem from me and my illness.

Seclusion and neglect is what I suspect triggered my bpd.
 
Deadheading

Deadheading

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#6
My BPD developed from a childhood of being excluded and targeted at school, and at the same time being emotionally - and if I misbehaved - physically abused by a sibling I disowned. My parents allowed him to do this to me.

I really don't have the energy to write more.
 
G

Girl interupted

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#7
I’ll share my story, because I’m struggling tonight, and I think writing it out may help me.

My mother was NPD. As a child she was verbally and physically abusive if I wasn’t a perfect mirror, contrasted by grand sweeping gestures of clothing and any toy I wanted. She would often lock me in the basement after she cleaned the house because mess conflicted with her vision of austerity. She would buy $5,000 Persian rugs and we would be left with mustard sandwiches to eat. Then she would overcompensate and buy the best foods, and if I didn’t like what she felt was the best, she would literally pry open my mouth and stuff it down my throat.

As a teenager she became my sibling. Competitive, jealous, paranoid, fits of rage and fists. I’m not sure I ever really had a mother, but in my teenage years she vanished. My father would gaslight, I believe mostly to keep the peace, and mostly out of fear. For the longest time I felt sorry for my dad because we shared her abuse. It wasn’t until only recently that I realized he was complicit. That was like a punch in the gut, because it meant I truly had no one.

In my 20s I was gang raped by six men at a frat party. I went through most of my life blaming myself for putting myself in such a situation. The shame was massive, and often overwhelming. Coupled with childhood abuse, this was the first time I recall a splitting. I became suicidal, and reckless. I didn’t care about my safety. Binge drinking, binge sex, complete disregard for myself. I didn’t care if I lived or died.

I lived.

And then I met a man who I only recently unearthed through therapy would drug me and sell me to men without me being concious. This is what I’m struggling with tonight. There was no free will. Choice was taken away from me. I had buried it so deeply that its revelation has brought a whole different level of shame and pain. And anger.

At the end of my 20s I had my first nervous breakdown. I literally cried every day nonstop for a year.

I went back to school. I started a new career. My binging became my work, my work my sole identity. I rose to the top of my profession. I won awards. It became my everything.

Then the recession hit. I lost my job. I lost my identity. I lost what had been keeping me stable. Both of my parents fell ill. I was back at home taking care of my abuser, and my gaslighter. Fifteen years of my life doing this. Daily abuse. Physical abuse. I was trapped. No job, no choices. My mom would tell me all the time what a piece of shit I was.

During this time I got pregnant. I wanted the child. In my second month I went for an ultrasound. They couldn’t find a heartbeat. I lost the child. It devastated me.

I’m now so severely rigid, everything is black and white, there is no gray. I’m afraid of interacting with people because then they will see the real me. The messed up, broken me. I’m so further split that my emotions and intellect don’t match. It’s like I’m two people, but my therapist says it’s part of bpd and not schizophrenia.

After my mom died, I felt peace. I’m still struggling through my feelings about it...my emotions haven’t caught up with what I intellectually understand.

I’m back to feeling strong periods of being suicidal, something my career had dampened. These feelings resurfaced about three years in to living with and taking care of my parents. I have not had these feelings since my 20s.

I try to invest my strength in supporting others. Altruism, in its purest sense, is like a panacea. If I can be strong for others, I can forget just how very weak I really am.

I struggle with anger. I get angry, then chastise myself for feeling that way. That I have no right to anger. So it gets bottled up and leaks out when I can no longer contain it.

Mindful meditation has helped to muffle the angry voice in my head. But I’m on and off doing it. I really need to refocus because it helps.

And that’s me, that’s my split, my bpd.
 
D

Duffer1976

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#8
Hi. I've just been diagnosed with Bpd. After years of therapy that never worked and loads of reserach into all of it after 39 years of suffering from the age of 4 I got diagnosed. Mum got cancer when I was 4 died when I was 11. Family hid it from me to protect me. My dad just grieved and I didn't get any emotional support that I needed. Brought myself up. Went off the rails drink and drugs etc and Frank a lot through my twenties. Relationships were volatile I was paranoid I wasn't good enough. Hated their pasts with previous girlfriends almost like they'd cheated on me yet they'd not met me yet. Wanted to be married yet felt trapped and ran away. Cheated the grass was always greener. I got bored easy. Really loved them then one mistake and I hates them. They repulsed me need them to be out my life. I never understood this pattern. It confused me so much. My dad drank. Was the life and soul of the party yet depressed. My anxiety was always over him. What if he died. Then he died in a freak accident when I was 33 and was left alone again. Now 42 with 3 kids and 3 different dads. The last relationship being with a narcissist who still continues to hurt me. My self esteem is rock bottom, I shout all the time as my stress levels are so high all the time. My diagnosis from childhood trauma, teenage drug use and abusive relationships. My empathy and Insecurity attracts the narcs. Now I feel worthless, fat ugly when in reality it's not like that. I don't see what other people see and it makes my life so hard. I moved away a fresh start and I love where I live now yet my childhood haunts me every day. I'm angry why my family held secrets from me yet they were a kind family and just wanted to protect me. I don't want to get older yet I wish every day away waiting for the time I can go to bed. Its a crap existence yet I'm forced to live it. Noone understand how I feel. I just have to take it day by day. Tomorrow I may like myself a bit better. Good luck to those who feel the same. I'm there for u! Xxx
 
Flameheart (was BPDevil)

Flameheart (was BPDevil)

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#9
my mum was emotionally and physically abusive and neglectful when I was a kid

my dad has been in out and of prison all my life and caused me a traumatic experience when I was 8

I was bullied at school and struggled to make and keep friends, teachers also made me feel like an outcast because they knew my family history and treated me differently from other kids because of this

there was a murder attempt on my dad when i was 14, people in our town found out what he did and it made me not want to leave the house cos I'd also get targeted

I remember feeling suicidal since the age of around 10/11 and started self harming around 13

i dunno what else cos even though I'm 18 now I've blocked out most of what happened in my childhood, but that's probably enough to see why I'm so messed up
 
C

Claraida

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#10
I think out of all the mental health illnesses bpd is the worst as there are no short way of explaining how it effects us as it effects every part of my life in so many ways and yet I can appear normal my story is long but what I can say is as I've aged the bpd is more controllable and I have been 8 years on medication quotiapine which has quieting my mined.
I do have episodes still mostly if life is distressing me but overall a big improvement to my younger days
 
C

Claraida

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#11
You are a strong caring person, you are still here with us, my life also is very similar to yours. I wish I could say something to make you feel better but buy the fact that you took care of your abusers makes me want to say to you try and direct that care in to yourself, say to your self if I had a friend that was going though what I am going though what would I tell them to do, would you not say to them to do nice stuff to take care and treat them self well do that be gentle have a mindfull bath put genteel music on not music with words as that could trigger relaxing sounds. I wish you well.
 
C

Claraida

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#12
Can I ask how do the journals help you? Also I'm on quotiapine and it has helped me very much so but I've put on lots of weight as I'm contantley hungary
 
D

Duffer1976

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#13
My psychiatric nurse has asked for an appt for me to see a psychiatrist to change my meds. I'm on venlafaxine and pregabalin. I said I need mood stabilisers. He said they don't work on bpd but I believe they do and two of u have said you are on quotiapine. He did mention that one. Hearing u say it helps I'm going to push the psychiatrist to let me try them. My mood swings are awful and I shout at the kids at the slightest things and that gets to me. I know most parents do but this is over tiny things. My stress levels are through the roof and I want something to calm me down a bit. I have got slightly better trying to be more patient as I know it's not them but it doesn't help me all the time. I scream then cry with guilt. Xxx
 
T

TheRedStar

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#14
My story is embarrassing because it feels like there isn't enough 'reason' for me to have BPD... or BPD symptoms (I've got a specialist appointment tomorrow, and I just have this gut feeling that I'm going to be stripped of the label). I wasn't physically abused as a child, and while some of my mum's treatment of me was unpleasant, and made me scared of her, and is something I can still remember quite vividly today (which I figure must mean it has some strong significance in some way), I wouldn't call it emotional 'abuse'.

We didn't go out and 'do something' very often, but I understood even then that mum never really had the time and/or the money (she had to work a lot doing not very well paid jobs), so I didn't take it personally. When we did though, sometimes she had a go at me for not 'looking' happy enough, which made her assume I was ungrateful, when in reality I was perfectly happy and simply had male equivalent of 'resting bitch face'.

She always seemed to put watching TV first, telling me - often angrily - to come back whenever EastEnders or whatever had finished if I wanted to ask her a question. I just stopped asking questions in the end.

It was her temper that I hated the most; I used to joke that if it moved she shouted at it, and if it didn't move she shouted at it until it did. I hated being on the receiving end of it though, especially when it would happen for doing something minor, like getting down from my cabin bed ladder a bit too loudly (irony - addressing the issue of me making too much noise by making even more noise herself)

Things got a bit more fucked up when she had a breakdown and stopped working... it meant I never got any respite from her at home. The house was a complete shithole (she was a hoarder, and a 'dirty' one at that... the kitchen was disgusting), and I wasn't allowed to have friends round (not that I wanted to bring anyone into that mess). Eventually the boiler packed up and she wouldn't allow anyone in to fix it, so we didn't have any heating or hot water. The washing machine frequently packed up as well, which meant that every so often I couldn't do any washing until that was repaired... not a problem for her because she didn't go out (ever!), but I had to work, and was generally trying to have 'a life'.

I moved out to live with my now ex-girlfriend when I was 24 (it's weird now to look back and recall that I was once in my twenties, lol), but I still had a poor relationship with my mum, which eventually led to us falling out altogether. Even then, she did things like send me passive-aggressive cards and texts at Christmas and new year (and possibly on my birthday as well), the former of which was made even more uncomfortable by how it meant she'd found out my new address when I moved.

We've actually reconciled now... she had a stroke in 2013, and while it left her cognitively impaired in several key and obvious ways, it effectively cured the unpleasantness in her head; she says she remembers being a horrible person, but that the anger she used to feel just isn't there anymore.

I think the big problem for me was a mixture of needing - not wanting, but needing - to be loved, and not being very well equipped to either obtain it (I'm short, facially unattractive, have crooked teeth and always have done, and as a person I'm a bit awkward and eccentric, and don't have that 'instant charisma'), or to deal with the consequences of the frequent rejections I received.

I don't think I can 'process' rejection... I used to get told that it becomes easier, that you get used to it, but it got worse; it's like rejection has an accumulative effect on me, and every rejection piles on top of all the others, giving ever-more weight to the persistent thoughts that torment me.

Not good enough. Not loveable. Too ugly. Too weird. Have to have perfectly straight teeth or no-one will want you. Deserve to be alone. Will always be alone.

I first self-harmed when I was 12... I got so angry and upset and frustrated about a girl I liked preferring my friend, and suddenly I got the urge to hurt myself. I think it was to 'punish' myself for 'not being good enough', and doing it taught me that the immediacy of physical pain can be a welcome distraction from emotional hurt. I didn't become a frequent self-harmer though.

I don't know if it's significant, but the only sustained bullying I ever received at school was from two girls in my early teens. It sucked because it was emotional - things like undermining me in front of a girl they knew I liked - and I felt powerless because as a boy I felt like it wasn't right to hit back at girls, either physically or verbally. The school wasn't much help either... they basically told me to wait until year 10, when we stopped having classes according to our form groups. However, even then, I still had to put up with them in morning and afternoon registration, which meant I was constantly wary until I finally left school altogether.

In my late twenties it reached a point where being rejected romantically caused full-on breakdowns. I've lost jobs over this, as no employment I've ever had has ever really required much of my mind, and so there's too much 'bandwidth' left which leads to me being constantly bored at work, which in turn invariably leads to me ruminating on dark shit. As I found in my last vaguely full-time job, 'putting on a face' for customers when inside you hate yourself and want to die, and doing this for endless identical days which stretch into the future beyond time's horizon, is just exhausting and stressful and a soul-crushing, pointless existence.

I went to university in my early thirties, and I went a bit 'native' by making friends with students of normal age - I even moved into a student flat (in many ways I've not really matured beyond adolescence, so I actually felt more like my natural self at uni than I did in the adult world, where I kind of had to put on an act to make it seem like I'd 'evolved'). Stupidly though I let it all go too far, and fell completely in love with one of my friends (she was a couple of years older than the majority, but still a decade younger than me)... I got backed into a corner where I had admit how I felt, she didn't see me the same way, I got upset and bombed out of uni over it (I just could not be in that place... it wasn't just having to risk bumping into her at any given time, but the echo of memories - if that makes sense? - it contained. Too many memories. Too recent. Too vivid. Too painful. Just too fucking much), she got angry and cut me off completely (I've not heard a single word from her since Xmas Day 2011), and as a consequence I had an implosion which, truthfully, I think was always going to happen at some point; it was just a case of when, and over whom.

I knew in my heart that it could happen; I'd known since I was a teenager. I just hoped that I could somehow find the right person before I got broken completely by a wrong person, but that didn't happen and lost all hope, and any real meaning, from life. Now I'm just entertaining myself as best I can, passing the time as quietly and stress-free as possible, and waiting to die. I don't want to be *with* anyone anymore - that last experience was so hard on me that I'm now more scared of being rejected than I am of being alone; it's now harder for me to cope with getting turned down than it is to handle feeling unloved and unwanted. I feel so perpetually empty though... the only thing I ever really wanted from life is gone, and it's left a vacuum that nothing else has been able to fill.

I do become 'attracted' to women from time to time but I never approach them, and I no longer feel any regret about that because I'm so utterly sure that anyone I might *want* wouldn't want me; I've not lost potential opportunities - I've saved time, energy, and pain by not looking for, and getting confirmation of, what I already knew.

I've become avoidant and distant with others, because my friend turning on me like she did over me wanting to be closer to her, and just finally realising and acknowledging how friends treat others when they want/find a partner, has made me realise how much even platonic relationships can hurt me, and how mercenary friends can be... you're just someone to pass time with until somebody special comes along, or when that somebody special has other things to do. Something which really contributed to this feeling was when a close friend expected me to accept her cutting me off because her junkie, alcoholic, football hooligan, attempted murderer of a boyfriend couldn't handle her having male friends. So, obviously, I'm the one who became surplus to requirements...

When you're a perpetually single friend, you get used. And when you're ugly, you're supposed to accept this being as good as life gets... and to accept being patronised about wanting something too much from people who never themselves go more than five minutes without it.
 
G

Girl interupted

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#15
Red, what you describe is trauma. And your isolating is symptomatic. I don’t think they will revise the diagnosis, but what I found helped me was reading all I could on the disorder so that I could try to identify triggers and gain some emotional stability. I also found mindful meditation good for soothing anxiety and quieting a raging brain.

No one’s trauma or pain is any less than another’s.

The key is finding coping tools that help you.
 
C

Claraida

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#16
Thank you so much for your reply. Im going to start reading about my condition. I have worried that if I read about bpd I will panic and feel hopeless however since I have join this forum I dont feel so alone.
 

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